


fragile but whole

by sleeponrooftops



Series: raising webhead: a parenting guide, attempted by the science boyfriends [48]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:45:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything comes to a head, all the drama and nightmares and anxiety and heartaches of life, all at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fragile but whole

“My Uncle Steve is here.  Something’s wrong,” Peter says, pushing open the lobby door.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The second he’s inside, Peter can hear it, and he drops his phone, the sound of it breaking apart echoing in the lobby as he sprints for the elevator.  “ _Jarvis_!” he screams, panic rising in his throat, and the doors fly open.  He topples over as Jarvis shoots him down, the elevator screeching to a shuddering halt and the doors springing open again.  Peter hauls himself up, falls out of the elevator, and sprints down the hall toward the basement door.  He skids to a stop in front of it, grabbing onto the handle to pull himself upright, and he puts his fingers to the lock pad as the sound rips through him again.

 

He’s heard Hulk’s roar plenty before—on the news, in battle, one of the many times he and Hulk played when he was little—but he’s never, ever heard it directed toward someone he knows and loves.

 

“Peter, _no_!” Steve’s voice echoes across the bottom floor of the gym as he yanks the door open and runs in.  Steve’s standing in front of something, blocking it, and Peter’s heart jumps up into his mouth.

 

“Dad,” he whispers, staring at the unmoving body behind Steve, and he can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t even think about what that means.

 

Hulk slams his hands on the ground, tearing huge chunks through the mats and concrete floor underneath.  The room shakes around them, and Peter crashes to one knee, but it’s enough to shake his head loose, and his voice comes out like a roar, “ _Hey_!”

 

“Peter!” Steve screams as he sprints forward.

 

Hulk turns, letting out a growl that nearly knocks him off his feet, but Peter shoots a web just past his head, hitting the ceiling, and he swings up and around, Hulk’s massive hands following him wildly.  Peter keeps going, moving in a circle until Hulk stumbles, and then he shoots a web at his shoulder, pushes off the ceiling, and lands on his chest, feet coming in against him _hard_.  Hulk stumbles again, so Peter pushes off him, hits the ceiling, and throws himself back down.  This time, Hulk falls backward, and Peter goes with him, jumping off at the last second and rolling onto the mats and up onto his feet again, crouched defensively.  Hulk groans and starts to get up, so Peter leaps in the air, landing on his chest.  He gets a terrifying growl in return, and Hulk’s hands start to come up until Peter points his hands at opposite ends, not thinking and not breathing until he’s sure Hulk can’t move his hands.  He starts to buck, and Peter slams a knee down on his chest, grabs his face with both hands, and digs his nails in.  “ _LOOK AT ME_!” he screams in his face.

 

His whole body is shaking, and he wants nothing more than to run to Tony and curl up with him and cry, but he needs Bruce, he needs him to be okay, to come back, to help him and to help Tony and to make everything better again like he always does.

 

“Look at me,” he whispers this time, his voice cracking, and Hulk falls still, holding his gaze with brilliant green eyes.  “Daddy,” he mumbles, pressing his forehead against Hulk’s chin, “ _Please_.  I need you.”

 

“Peter?” Hulk says, his voice just a little hoarse, and Peter worries about what that means for Bruce, if he’ll even be able to speak when he’s Bruce again.  “Peter,” Hulk says again, this time softer, and Peter lifts his head, tears spilling freely down his face.

 

“Daddy,” he says again, “Please.  Come back.  Come _home_.”

 

“Peter,” Hulk says, his voice pitching into fear, but Peter just shakes his head and takes his hands away so that he can smooth them over Hulk’s face, pushing his hair back and tracing his eyebrows and then settling them again on his cheeks.

 

“It’s okay,” Peter whispers, “It’s okay.  Just breathe.  I’m going to go see if dad is okay.”

 

“Tony.”  Peter can hear Bruce in his voice now, and he hates how it sounds.  He leans up, presses a kiss to Hulk’s green forehead, and then clambers off of him, staggering before he gains his footing.

 

“Peter,” Steve says as he comes over, “That was amazing.  Have you—have you had to do that before?”

 

“Never,” Peter says, swallowing thickly, “Is he—”

 

“He’s unconscious, but he’s mostly okay.  I think a few of his ribs may be broken.  He called me just before it happened, and I got here just as he was—uhm, well, you really don’t need to—”

 

“Tell me what happened,” Peter demands before he steps around Steve and goes to Tony, kneeling beside him and checking him over.

 

“I honestly don’t know, Peter,” Steve admits, coming over, as well, “On the phone, I could barely understand him, and he only gave me the basics, that Hulk had taken over and Bruce was—he was _gone_.  When I got here, Tony was in midair, and he hit the wall.  You arrived just after me.”

 

“ _Peter_ ,” Bruce’s raw voice drifts over to them, and Peter jumps to his feet, jogging over.

 

“Hey,” he says, dropping to his knees beside him, “Are you okay?”

 

“What happened?” he asks, and then groans, reaching up a hand to his throat.

 

“Don’t talk,” Peter says, shaking his head, “Hulk came out, and he was making quite a lot of noise.  Let’s go upstairs.  I’ll make you tea.”

 

“No,” Bruce says, fear flooding his voice and face as he forces himself up off the mats.  He’s trembling all over, and he falls when he stands, and then collapses when he tries again.

 

“Daddy,” Peter pleads, grabbing onto him, “Please.  Uncle Steve will take care of dad, let me take care of you.”

 

“What did I do?  Oh god—” Bruce breaks, sobs shuddering through him, and Peter looks helplessly over at Steve.

 

“I’ve got it,” he says, coming over, “Stay with Tony, I’ll be right back down.”

 

Peter nods, and then things start to blur together.  Somehow, much later, he finds himself waking up in his dads’ bed, and, as he stirs, groaning and reaching up a hand to rub at his eyes, Steve comes in holding a tray.  “Good, you’re awake,” he says as he comes over, and something moves beside him.

 

Peter scrambles upright and looks over to find Tony shifting against his pillows.  “Hey,” he says when he catches sight of Peter, “How are you feeling?”  Without thinking, he lunges forward, and Tony groans, patting at him until Peter remembers and quickly pulls away, his expression one of fear and sadness.  “It’s okay,” Tony says, reaching for him, “Come back here.”  Peter carefully settles in the curve of his arm, resting against his side as Steve rests the tray on the nightstand.  “Thank you,” Tony says to Steve when he hands over a mug of tea, “Is he still downstairs?”

 

“He said he doesn’t feel stable, and after what you said happened,” Steve trails off, shrugging, and Peter looks up at Tony worriedly.

 

“What happened?” Peter demands.

 

Tony sighs and says, “It’s nothing, baby, don’t worry about it.”

 

“I _am_ worried about it,” Peter says, pushing away from him and sitting again, “Tell me what happened.”

 

Tony sighs again and looks over at Steve, who shrugs and takes his leave.  When he’s gone, Tony turns to Peter and says, “I’ve been having nightmares again, on and off, the past couple weeks, and I have no idea what brought them on.  Dad and I tried to do some stress therapy, and it just—it set me off, and I had, uhm—I had a panic attack, a—a _bad_ one, Peter, like I haven’t had before.  I couldn’t—damn it,” he pauses, tipping his head back, and it’s only then that Peter notices the haggard way he’s breathing.  He takes Tony’s hand in his own and holds it tightly, breathing audibly like he’s seen Bruce do before.  When Tony’s breathing finally slows and steadies, he looks back down and smiles.  “Where’d you learn how to do that?” he asks, squeezing Peter’s hand.

 

“Dad always used to do it to you.  Does he do it so you can hear how you’re supposed to be breathing?”

 

Tony nods, “That, and it reminds me there’s someone else there, I think.  Anyway, uhm—skipping over the attack because apparently I can’t talk about it right now.  I went upstairs to take a bath because I was just—freaking out, and I didn’t want to be near him when it was happening.  We got in a fight—again, a bad one, and we were just— _screaming_ at each other.  And then I—I just saw it.  His eyes went green so fast, and I shoved him in the elevator and called Steve.  We barely made it into the basement before he was gone.  I’ve never seen Hulk take over the way he did right then.  I was so afraid I was going to lose him forever.”

 

“Dad,” Peter says, frowning, “Is he going to be okay?  Are _you_ going to be okay?”

 

“Of course, Peter,” Tony says, pulling Peter toward him, “Dad and I just need to talk, but I can’t do that as long as he’s moping downstairs, so why don’t you do me a favor and go talk some sense into him?  Hey, by the way, Steve said you were the one that brought him back.  How?”

 

“I don’t know,” Peter admits, shrugging as he leans away, “I just—I remembered that time when I was a little kid, the first time I saw him, and how he knew it was me when he looked at me, so I made him look at me, and I found dad.”

 

“I’m proud of you.”

 

“Thanks, dad.”  Tony pulls him in for a hug before sending him on his way, and his head’s all a jumble as he takes the elevator down, equal parts Johnny and the voicemail and Hulk and his dads, and he just wants to snuggle in between them and pretend this day never happened.

 

When he gets into the basement, Bruce is sitting, in full lotus, in the middle of his two Hulk-size craters, and Peter looks at him for a moment before marching over, hauling him to his feet, and pulling him toward the door.  When Bruce tries to talk, he just squeezes his wrist where he’s holding him and tells him to shut up.  In the elevator, he doesn’t look at him, doesn’t speak to him, and he knows Bruce thinks he hates him, but he’s going to break if he turns around.  So, he waits until they reach their floor, and he pulls him along through the living room, down the hall, and into their room.  Bruce flinches when he sees Tony, but Peter just steers him toward the bed, and then climbs in, waiting until Bruce gets in next to him before he says, “I need my dads right now.  _Please_.  I’m falling apart.”

 

It’s clearly not what either of them were expecting, and Bruce says his name around a sigh even as Tony is reaching for both of them.  Peter lays down between them, letting them hold him and hide him away until his whole world is narrowed down to just the three of them.


End file.
